


And Help This Heart Heal

by aroacewritingplace



Series: aroacewritingplace - Parkner Week [10]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)
Genre: Crying, Grief/Mourning, Grieving Peter Parker, Guitars, Healing, M/M, Pre-Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-11
Updated: 2019-08-11
Packaged: 2020-08-19 04:47:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,496
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20203957
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aroacewritingplace/pseuds/aroacewritingplace
Summary: Peter doesn't really want to go back to the cabin where there had been a funeral just days before.There were too many wounds, too many hurts, too much he didn't really want to face.





	And Help This Heart Heal

**Author's Note:**

> For Parkner Week day ten: Tony Stark, Musical Instruments
> 
> If any of you would like to listen to what I imagine Harley to be playing, the song is "Night After Sidewalk" by Kaki King, it's on Spotify and probably other places too. It's just an instrumental guitar piece that fits with the mood really well, so I highly recommend it.

It didn’t feel right, showing up to this cabin.

The wooden building was small, smaller than the Tower or the compound or even Peter’s own apartment building, but the cottage loomed above him, far more imposing than any skyscraper in New York or Avengers building had ever felt.

Peter didn’t really want to be here, but he knew he should. 

He didn’t want to see Pepper and the composed face she hid a well of sorrow behind. He didn’t want to see Morgan Stark, who looked all too much like her father and talked far too much like him. But there was a tugging at his heart as he crossed the lawn up to the wooden cabin, and he knew he did want to talk to Pepper, and he did want to play with Morgan.

He just didn’t know if he would be enough. 

Peter was approaching from the back of the house and was rounding the side when he heard a door shut, and then, a few minutes after, the soft strumming of guitar filled the air.

Peter frowned. He didn’t know Pepper could play guitar.

He turned the corner and stopped short when, instead of seeing Pepper’s long reddish hair, a floppy blond mop was turned away from him, the neck of the guitar poking out to the side of him. He looked vaguely familiar, and it took Peter a second to place his figure.

Oh.

“You’re… you’re Harley Keener, right? You were at the funeral.”

The guy jumped about a foot in the air, the guitar twanging horribly as his fingers slipped.

Peter put his hands out placatingly, laughing softly. “Sorry, man, I didn’t mean to scare you.” He paused on the steps as Harley’s face relaxed upon seeing him. 

“You’re… you’re Peter Parker.” It had been a brief exchange, shaking hands without any eye contact after the funeral.

Peter nodded. “Yeah. Is Pepper here?”

Harley shook his head. “Nah. She had to rush to a meeting, which just isn’t fair if you ask me. Left me watching Morgan since I still got a few days before I decide…” he trailed off, beginning to strum the guitar again.

“Decide what?” Peter asked. Then, “Mind if I sit?”

“Not at all,” Harley said, scooting to the side to make room for Peter. “Decide whether I want to go back to Tennessee.”

“Right. Rose Hill, right?” Harley gave Peter a confused look, and there was only a touch of tightness in Peter’s voice as he explained. “Mr. Stark told me about you.”

“He did?” Harley asked, voice cracking into a hushed whisper. “Didn’t know that. He told me about you too. Spider-Man.”

Peter laughed. “I supposed he had to tell that secret to somebody.”

“Oh no, is it a secret?” Harley looked at him in mock surprise. “I already told all ten people in Rose Hill.”

Peter cracked up, bumping Harley with his elbow. “People know about me down there? Are you serious?”

Harley nodded seriously, his lips twitching in a smile. “I packed my whole collection of limited edition Spider-Man undies in hopes of having you sign them.”

“While you were wearing them?” If Peter’s heart was beating a little faster, no one could tell.

“No other way to do it.” But Peter could hear Harley's heart stutter and increase a little bit, and he felt his face warm. 

So he switched topics. “So if you’re supposed to be watching Morgan, where exactly is she?”

“Pep put her down for a nap before she left, but I definitely saw a flashlight underneath the covers when I went to check on her. FRIDAY said I’d get an alert if she leaves her room or does something dangerous, so I came out here.” Harley’s fingers paused on the strings, and he bent his head forward. “God, sometimes it’s- it’s hard to look at her. You know?”

“It’s the eyes,” Peter said softly. “They’re just like his.”

Harley hummed, and Peter only realized how close they were sitting when he could feel the vibration of the noise from where their shoulders were pressed together. The end of the guitar was in Peter’s lap, an unusual weight against his thigh.

“Were you around when she was born?” Peter asked, watching Harley’s fingers move across the strings.

Harley laughed, a little bitterly. “No. I was watching the news coverage of Iron Man gettin’ beamed up to space - Tennessee news is always slower than the rest of the world - and the next thing I know it goes dark, and then my house was empty.”

“I went, too,” Peter said quietly. “It- It still doesn’t feel like five years passed. Everything that happened, from the spaceship to- to-” he broke off, voice overwhelmed with emotion. “It all happened in a single day for me.” A single day that had played over and over ever since he got back, a day he never wanted to live through again but was forced to every time he shut his eyes.

He hadn’t slept in a few days.

“Damn,” Harley whistled, low and long. “That must have been insane.”

Peter didn’t know when tears had gotten into his eyes, but he blinked through a watery film and found he couldn’t even pretend to smile as the chaos of the battle came rushing back at him. “Yeah, it was. It was nuts.” His chest was tight. It was hard to breathe.

Peter focused on the guitar as his breathing began to shudder, listened to the soft acoustic sounds and felt the slight movement of Harley’s arm as he strummed. For a moment, Harley stopped and looked at him. “Shit, are you okay?” he said, and Peter numbly watched a tear slip from his chin and onto his leg. “Do I need to call Pepper?”

“Keep playing,” Peter mumbled, leaning against Harley a little more. “It’s helping.”

“Okay, sweetheart,” Harley said softly, resuming his movements. “That’s fine by me.”

Harley picked at the strings, creating a soft set of sounds that slowly helped Peter even out his breathing.

“What song are you playing?” he mumbled drowsily.

“Just playing around with chords,” Harley said. “I’m trying to write a song for him.”

More tears slipped down Peter’s cheeks, but he found himself smiling softly as he let the music carry his tired brain away into nothingness. 

He hadn’t even realized he had been asleep until he heard a child’s voice say “Is Peter sleeping?”

Quiet ambiance of the forest filled his ears, and Peter realized that Harley wasn’t playing the guitar any longer. He also noticed that he was laying horizontally now, and as his awareness came back, he felt a gentle pressure on his head that moved back and forth across his hair. 

“Yeah, Mo, like you should have been.” Harley teased. Morgan giggled, beginning to protest before Harley shushed her. “We have to be quiet so we don’t wake Peter up though, okay?”

“Okay,” Morgan said simply. “Can I play your guitar?”

Harley sighed. “Only if you’re quiet about it.”

He imagined Morgan nodding seriously before beginning to pick at the strings, very quietly. 

It wasn’t anything like Harley’s music, but it was still nice and calm, enough that Peter considered drifting off again.

Then Harley shifted slightly, and he realized that he was moving underneath him, and he realized that he was laying in Harley’s lap.

Peter’s eyes nearly shot open, but he settled for just stirring slightly and opening his eyes. 

“Hey there, sleeping beauty,” Harley said. His words were teasing but his blue eyes shone with concern, his eyebrows furrowed. 

Peter felt his cheeks go pink at the name. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to fall asleep, I swear.”

“Peter!” Morgan cheered, abandoning the guitar to run over. Peter flinched slightly at the sudden noise, something Harley caught with a sharp look. 

“Princess, a little quieter please, he’s still wakin’ up.” Harley looked back down at Peter. “It’s been a while since you slept, hasn’t it?” he asked kindly.

Peter struggled with his words for a moment, battling between holding it all in and spilling it to this near-stranger that he already inexplicably trusted so well. “It’s been a while since I’ve slept without any nightmares,” he decided to say.

Harley hummed. “Well, I’m glad I could help you out, then.” There was some weight in his words, and Peter wondered what he was thinking.

Instead of voicing that, Peter just said. “Yeah. Thanks.” Peter sat up slowly, pressing a hand to his temple as a slight headache began to pound. 

“If Peter’s awake, can we have juice pops?” Morgan asked, blinking up at both of them with wide, brown, intelligent eyes. Tony’s eyes. “Mommy said I could.”

Harley shook his head. “I guarantee your mom said nothing of the kind.”

“I could go for a juice pop,” Peter decided, swinging his legs over the side of the seat and taking Morgan’s hand. “Lead the way, Mo.” 

“Yay!” Morgan cheered, pulling Peter into the house. In a split-second decision, Peter reached his arm out and grabbed Harley’s hand.

“Hey, you’re the one who’s responsible for her today,” he said as if that explained why he was intertwining his fingers with Harley’s. But Harley was standing, shifting his hand so it fits against Peter’s palm better. He swallowed dryly. “Besides, I don’t know you well enough to know what flavor you want, so you should probably come and pick for yourself.”

“Well, for future reference, the answer is grape.” 

Peter screwed up his face. “Grape popsicles taste nothing like real grapes.”

“I know! That’s why I love ‘em. Grape-not-grape.”

“Come  _ on _ I want raspberry,” Morgan said, tugging on Peter’s hand. 

“Okay, okay, we’re coming,” Peter said, not letting go of either of their hands as they entered the house. “I want orange.”

“We don’t have orange,” Morgan said as she pulled out the freezer drawer. “We have grape, and raspberry, and lime. But no orange.”

Peter frowned, moving to let go of both Morgan and Harley’s hand. “Sorry, unacceptable. I have to leave, right now.”

“No, Peter!” Morgan giggled, pulling at Peter’s hand with all of her five-year-old strength. “You have to help me get the juice pops if I try to get them myself I’ll fall in and freeze! That’s what Daddy says, only adults are allowed to go into the freezer.” Peter froze, barely containing a flinch.

Harley squeezed their intertwined fingers, rubbing his thumb reassuringly against Peter’s before giving him a cheeky smile. “Yeah, come on. We can’t let Morgan not have a juice pop.”

“You’re the one who was against it in the first place,” Peter grumbled, but after a moment he sighed loudly in mock resignation. “Fine, I guess I’ll get your juice pops. You have to let go of my hand, though.”

Morgan quickly let go of his hand, leaning over the freezer to look in. Peter reached down and pulled out three juice pops. “One raspberry juice pop for Morgan, one disgusting abomination for Harley, and one cherry juice pop for me.”

Harley snatched the darker colored item from his hand, their other hands still intertwined. “Thank you for making sure I didn’t fall into the freezer,” he said seriously, and Peter cracked up again, a strange fluttering filling his heart.

“Of course,” he said just as seriously, placing the hand that held the covered popsicle over his heart. “I’ll always protect you.”

His words came out softer and more genuine than he had meant to, but he couldn’t find a way to regret it when Harley’s eyes softened and he said, “And I, you.”

Morgan had already unwrapped her own frozen treat and was making quick work of it. “I’m gonna go play on the swing okay bye!” she shouted, running out the door.

“Don’t run with that in your mouth!” Harley hollered after her as the front door slammed shut. He turned back to Peter. “She’ll be fine. Probably.” 

“Not the one in charge,” Peter said. “Can’t take any responsibility. He looked at his wrapped popsicle. “I think I have to let go of your hand to open this.”

“Nah. Just tear it with your teeth. C’mon, let’s go make sure Morgan doesn’t trip and choke herself.”

They got the wrappers off and headed outside, sitting on the other side of the porch this time to watch Morgan on the swing that hung off the large tree. Peter couldn’t stop thinking about their hands still intertwined, what it meant, what it could mean.

“Sorry for falling asleep on your lap, by the way,” Peter said. “I don’t know how that even happened.”

“Well, after you fell asleep on my shoulder I figured the least I could do was make sure you didn’t wake up with a cramped neck. I just made sure your feet were up on the seat, too.”

“Oh. That’s… really nice of you. Thank you, Harley, seriously.”

“Anytime, sweetheart,” Harley said. There were a few minutes of silence as the two boys ate their popsicles, then Harley suddenly spoke. “Would you want to go out on a date some time?” He continued talking like he was afraid Peter was going to say no if he gave him a second to speak. “It’s just- I like you, a lot, which I wasn’t expecting to happen, but now you’re here, and I think you might like me too, though I don’t know for certain, but I’m just hopin’ that-”

“Harley,” Peter forced in, cutting him off. “Yes. On one condition.”

Harley smiled, and Peter would’ve guessed he was feeling calm if it wasn’t for the erratic heartbeat he could hear. “Shoot.”

“Stick around New York for a little longer.”

Harley smiled wider. “Anything for you, darlin’.”

“Peter!” Morgan yelled. “Come push me!”

“You know, I think I’ve been usurped as the favorite,” Harley said, his mouth drawing down into a pout that Peter wanted to kiss.

“She only asks me because she thinks I’m going to use my super strength to push her so hard she’ll fly,” Peter explained, laughing. “Even though I already told her I’m only allowed to use my powers for emergencies and pushing her on a swing does not count.”

“She’ll find a way to twist your arm. She does that.” The two of them exchanged a sad glance, thinking of the same person.

“She sure does,” Peter said. “You coming with?”

Harley stood up. “I’d follow you anywhere, sweetheart.”

“If you keep saying stuff like that I don’t know if I’ll be able to handle it,” Peter groaned. 

“Then I’ll help you,” Harley said simply. Peter felt so warm he thought his head might explode. 

“Stop,” he said, not really meaning it, leaning his head against Harley’s shoulder. “You’re too much.”

There was a soft press to the top of his head, and when Peter looked up to see Harley’s eyes sparkling he thought that maybe next time he came to the house his heart wouldn't feel quite as heavy.

**Author's Note:**

> I can't believe this is actually over once this goes up. This has been so much fun, and I've loved talking to so many different people this week about parkner. It's been a blast, and I hope y'all stick around for some of my next stories <3  
tumblr: the-end-of-endgame  
comments and kudos are constantly appreciated, love you guys :)


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